


Johnny's Origins

by occult2000



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Mother Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Korean Characters, Non-Canonical Backstory, Past Child Abuse, Saints Row 1, Self-Defense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occult2000/pseuds/occult2000
Summary: Just some more old writing from April/early May. Enjoy





	Johnny's Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Just some more old writing from April/early May. Enjoy

“Nae jib-eseo naga!” 

Johnny flinched as he heard the door slam behind his back. “Mi-chin saeggi!” he screamed back, kicking the door with his foot hard and picking his backpack off the ground. He stared down at the pavement for a long time before feeling angry tears prickle at his eyes. Using his palm to wipe them away, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked off at a snail’s pace. He didn’t even know where he was supposed to go. The homeless shelter? Salvation Army? Not that they would let him in… not with his police record. 

Johnny Gat was 23, unemployed, and homeless. 

He had dropped out of high school at 16 and spent his time more recently with a group of his “friends” that enjoyed popular American pastimes like looting and stealing car radios. He’d been in juvie for 4 months and released after an appeal. When he was 20 he went to jail for possession and intent. The only reason why he had been in his father’s house was because of his parole. He and his father fought on and off for hours on end, and..

… now he was kicked out. For good.

Johnny sat down on the curb and put his head in his hands, staring bitterly down at his feet. He sighed and pulled his glasses out of his jacket pocket, putting them back on. He flinched when they nudged against his blackened left eye; where he had been punched. Dad had called him a disappointment. Said he wished he had left him in Seoul. Feeling his chest tighten, Johnny stared at the deep and obvious cuts around his wrists before tugging his jacket sleeves back down and deciding that he might as well find a place to sleep for the night. 

He got back up on his feet and started walking towards the interstate. He had slept under the bridge before, he would do it again. Who cared? Not him. It was a 30 minute walk from his house to his usual spot. When he got there, he slumped against a concrete pillar and held his bag between his legs. His calf nudged against the Glock that rested, never used, in his side pocket. He grimaced and moved his leg over a little; he didn’t want to shoot his knee or anything. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and rested, hoping he could get a few hours of sleep. 

 

…..

“Oh God.” Johnny breathed, shaking a little as he held his gun at a breath’s point, the sound of the shot still echoing in his ears. “Fuck." Shaking violently, he put his gun aside and knelled down; the guy that he had shot was dead. A direct shot through his forehead had killed him instantly. Johnny shoved his handgun back into his jeans. And he ran as far away from that underpass as he possibly could. 

He had woken up around 4 in the morning- to a drunk, and possibly drugged out Vice inches from his face. He didn’t talk, and his breath smelled awful, rancid and like cheap whiskey. And when the dude's hands made their way onto his body, Johnny had panicked- and the gun was the closest thing to him. It didn’t matter. The cops had their hands full already with the Carnales and the VK. One dead gang member wouldn’t bother anyone. 

He panted as he came to a stop, leaning against the old walls of some beaten down church. He was terrified; because he had found some sick sense of enjoyment in taking a life. The adrenaline was still pounding in his blood. Just as he was starting to calm down, he watched two dudes in yellow jerseys crossing the street. They both had guns, and looked like someone had pissed on their carpet.   
“Shit,” Johnny whispered, and let his hand rest against the glock pressed between his belt and his pants on the side of his hip. 

When the two Vice Kings opened on him, Johnny felt a bullet graze his shoulder and cried out. He grabbed his gun with his other hand and it only took one shot each- both in the head- to kill them. He groaned, and when he was sure they weren’t getting back up, he raised a hand and gripped into his shoulder. What the fuck was he supposed to do about that? He leaned against a gravestone and jolted up when a voice called out to him.

“You’ve got a good eye for shooting for someone who wears glasses.” 

Johnny whirled around and saw a middle aged, black guy leaning against the church’s doors. 

“Don’t you know how to say ‘Thanks’ when someone compliments you? It’s probably in your best interest.” 

Scowling a little, Johnny could feel blood bubbling over his fingers.   
“What do you want?” he asked, aggressively. 

“You. And that hell of a shooting arm you’ve got. Though it won't be much good to me if I let you bleed out. Come on.” 

Johnny hesitated and then took careful steps through the dead grass of the graveyard that was behind the church. 

“What’s your name, kid?” the man asked, looking back at Johnny, who was still holding on to his wound. “Johnny.” he replies, mumbling; unwilling to hold a conversation. “You ain’t got a last name?”  
The man stopped and turned his head, looking towards Johnny’s hidden eyes. 

“Gat.” Johnny murmured, breaking the man’s intense gaze. Julius reached out a hand and Johnny shook it, the man had a hard and firm shake; like a man who had an air of leadership. 

“I’m Julius. Julius Little.” 

Julius sat Johnny down in a pew and left the room to grab a first aid kit. He returned with bandages, a needle and surgical thread and a pair of tweezers. 

“You’d better hold something real tight. This is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

 

…….

Johnny touched the bandages on his shoulder that was wrapped up only a few days ago. Julius had given him a couple of days to heal up before his canonizing; though Johnny had insisted that he could be fine without the short time.   
Troy, Dex, and the other members of the gang were standing outside, waiting on him. He had gotten to know them briefly over the time he was resting, but now he had to survive and all out assault from almost 9 full grown men and one bad ass bitch of a lady in the form of Lin. 

Troy came at him first, and got a good hit to his face. Johnny grabbed ahold of his arm and threw him to the ground roughly. Dex proved to be no issue. The other men were easily beaten down and Lin was on the ground with the lot of them. Five minutes. Five minutes was all it had taken him to get through 10 people. 

“Damn, Johnny. I’ve never seen anyone go through canonization so fast!” Dex exclaimed, looking over at Johnny and wiping blood away from his nose. “What kind of drugs you on?” 

Johnny shrugged and readjusted his glasses, leaning his shoulders against one of the pillars outside of the graveyard entrance of the church. “I’ve been fightin’ for a while, I guess.” 

Dex nodded in understanding, and Troy rubbed his sore knuckles. 

Johnny went back inside, and decided he would go down to the other side of the Row to get food. He had nothing better to do, and he deserved it after fighting Walking towards Freckle Bitch’s, he was about to cross the street when he noticed a girl; a girl who was being bothered by two other men. He didn’t know them, and he didn’t know her. Yet he pulled out his gun and pointed it down the alley, aimed at the head of the man closest to him. “Leave the lady alone.” he said, calmly. When the first man turned to confront him, fists raised, Johnny took the shot. The other drunk fled from him; terrified of his life being taken. 

“Girl, you gotta take better care of yourself. You’ll get shot out here.” He advised, taking her hand and helping her up. He got a better look at her when she stood fully upright and Johnny felt his heart skip a couple of beats. “Uh.. you.. I’m Johnny.” Fumbling over his words, the girl in front of him laughed and fixed her dreads, pushing them back behind her shoulder. 

“I’m Aisha. And thanks for helping me out.” 

Johnny blushed a little when he was thanked, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-- do you.. do you want to get food? I mean-- I was just about to.. get some. You don’t have to if you--” 

“Johnny?” she interjects, stopping him with her hand. 

“Yeah,” he replied, softly, looking over at Aisha, who was smiling amusedly and shook her head before starting to speak again.

“Just.. stop talking.” 

Johnny smirked and scratched the side of his face with his finger to hide it. 

…..  
THREE YEARS LATER 

Leaning against the trunk of a tree in the graveyard, Johnny watched as a kid got canonized. He wasn’t the best fighter, but he handled himself well. It took him a long ass time, but pretty soon he was standing alone, his knuckles bleeding badly and his nose broken. “You earned your colors today.” Troy spoke as he approached him, grabbing his hand and patting his shoulder. Dex came from behind and added on, “That was some impressive shit! The only other Saint that kicked ass like that is Johnny,” Gesturing back to him, Johnny and the kid met eyes. In that moment, Johnny could feel something special about him. Something different. “Shit took me half the time,” Johnny bragged, smiling, and watched as Julius walked up and officially welcomed the new blood in as a member of the Third Street Saints. 

Julius started to speak up about taking back the Row; and Johnny cracked his neck, raving for a fight. All of the Saints agreed; the kid nodded and turned away as Julius dismissed them. 

This was gonna be good.


End file.
